


At Rest

by Zyzix



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Oneshot, Sarumifest 2016, mentions of other characters but theyre not actually present so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyzix/pseuds/Zyzix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both had their fair share of nightmares. Bad dreams and lots of talk about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Here have a fucking mess.  
> Criticism is highly encouraged!

It was well after Fushimi's alarm went off when he sleep-rolled over the edge of the bed and into the small metal trash bin stationed between it and the dresser. This whipped the blanket off from around Yata, causing him to also drop to the ground as he had been wrapped in it like a burrito hammock and was counting on the tension of his partner pulling the blanket the opposite way to keep him suspended.

  
"What the hell Saru?!" Yata yelled as he bolted up off the ground, just before he saw Fushimi gripping the side of his head. "Oh- hey what happened?" he asked, concerned as he moved to crouch next to Fushimi on his side of the mattress.

  
When Fushimi stopped cringing, he let Yata take his head in his hands to examine the bruise, clicking his tongue. "I just fell off the bed." His tone was gravelly with a crabby sort of tiredness.

  
"I can see that," Yata remarked, choosing then to give Fushimi his head back and pick up the scarce contents of the over-turned trash can. "You weren't near the edge of the bed last night and you're kind of a still sleeper." Fushimi untangled himself from their blanket, knowing where this was going. "Bad dream?"

  
He answered by shrugging and looking off to the side, which Yata understood as a yes. "Wait right here. I'll go get you an ice pack." With that, Yata dashed out of the room.

  
For reasons that are probably more coincidental than they sometimes felt, both Fushimi and Yata each suffered from fairly frequent nightmares- something that made good sleep a cherished thing between the two. The exact procedure when dealing with those nightmares was still in development, as were many things in their newly reformed relationship. They had moved into this two room apartment only a week and a half ago and although they'd been sharing a bed months before that, this was Fushimi's first bad dream living here.

  
He supposed it was only a matter of time. Before, he'd had them almost weekly. Fushimi wasn't sure if he was glad he'd lasted this long and could hardly even remember the dream or annoyed that is happened at all _and he couldn't even remember the dream._

  
Nevermind he was annoyed. As someone who remembered just about everything they had ever heard, read, or seen, Fushimi found it particularly frustrating when he couldn't remember a dream that left him poorly rested, unnerved and- of all things- bruised. Once upon a time he had welcomed when they gave away to the void in favor of wakefulness. One less thing he would have to think about, to remember, to _never forget_. Now that he was actively trying to work out his issues and _make the nightmares stop_ it was a lot less helpful. He silently cursed the dream for the pointless anxiety that caused him to still be sitting on the ground.

  
Not sure if he should continue pillaging his brain for dream fragments or just ignore the usual after-dream unease, he got up and sat back on the bed, eyeing the digital clock on the dresser. According to the useless thing's numerical features, he'd slept thirty-or-so minutes past his alarm. Again, he blamed the nightmare for not allowing him to be as efficient of a carbon-based life form as he would like to be. In the same moment Yata came back with something cold wrapped in a paper towel.

  
"Alright so we're out of ice so I put a frozen pork chop in a zip lock bag, hope you don't mind."

  
Fushimi laughed out a slightly sarcastic, "Thanks," before applying it to the bruise. Doing what he could to get ready with one arm, Fushimi pulled out his uniform and his knife holders from the dresser before arranging some papers he'd finished the night before. During this, Yata stood awkwardly, but expectantly in the middle of the room. Noticing, Fushimi asked, "What?"

  
Yata rubbed the back of his head, mussing his already unkempt hair. "It must have been bad for you to roll all the way off the bed. Your nightmare I mean. Do... You wanna talk about it? Or at least rest some more? You look like you need it."

  
Despite being tired and fairly irked, Fushimi couldn't help but smile at Yata's open concern. It was often difficult for him to believe people cared about his well-being. Before, he'd rejected this sort of treatment for various reasons, ranging from pride to self-loathing and everything in between. Things are getting easier though.

  
"There's not much to talk about. I don't remember it very well, and I can't spend any more time sleeping if I don't want to be late today." Yata still stood there, worried expression unchanged, so Fushimi added, "I'm fine."

  
"Really? And you don't remember anything?" Yata was eyeing him really thoughtfully, as if trying to become a mind-reader.

  
"...Nosy."

  
"Che! Well you don't have to tell me." He crossed his arms and pouted.

  
The sight pulled a small chuckle from Fushimi, his mood improving even more. "To be honest, I only remember being cold." With that thought he set down the impromptu icepack and stepped toward Yata. "I also remember that you weren't there, even though I really... wanted you to be." He brushed a hand against Yata's cheek smiling warmly. "So yes, I really am fine."

  
Much more convinced, Yata took Fushimi's hand between his own. "Alright, if you say so. I'm here if you ever need to talk, or for me to just... Be here," he offered with a sheepish smile.

  
A slight pang of guilt arose in Fushimi from Yata's words, but he let it pass. "I know." Then Fushimi kissed Yata's hands and headed for the shower.

  
In the time it took for Fushimi to get ready, Yata prepared a small breakfast and his lunch, ready for him to walk out the door. Just before he stepped out, Yata stopped him, cupped his face with one hand and kissed his bruise.

  
Despite the day's poor wake-up call, Fushimi went to work in good spirits.

* * *

A problem with the housing of several strains in a downtown apartment complex caused a significant number of Fushimi's neighboring co-workers to be away from the office. Some low-life landlord had been overlooking, or even instigating, a few incidents of harassment toward the supernaturally powered residents, causing someone to use their weak telekinetic abilities in self-defense. Since it was Scepter 4's job to look out for the living conditions of the strains registered in their care, nearly everyone else in the office was out solving this dilemma.

  
Alone, Fushimi filled out what he could of the ensuing paperwork in advance until he noticed someone walk into the room. It was Yata.

  
Regardless of whatever he was doing here, Fushimi was glad to see him. Setting his papers in a stack, he got up from his chair to greet him. When he did though, Yata frowned at them and looked around.

  
Next to Fushimi, the stack of cards slipped off his desk into a mess on the ground. Suddenly they were in Homra. Yata was smiling again. Fushimi's gaze followed him around the room as he walked over to the cards, picked one up and handed it to him, seemingly unaware of his growing discomfort.

  
Yata wanted him to look at the card. He couldn't; Suoh was reclined on the couch and was staring right at him. Oblivious, Yata told him to look at the card. He couldn't; Suoh lit up a cigarette and the room was crowded with smoke and people. He looked at Yata.

  
Fushimi examined the photo in his hand. It was of him at Yata's left, and they were both smiling. For a moment, Fushimi could breathe. Only a moment though, as Yata invited others to come look at the photo. Suoh stood up as if to approach, billowing smoke like a beast and filling Fushimi's lungs, burning them, burning in his eyes, burning at his finger tips-

  
Burning. It was all he had. All it took was an ember to light the photo up and keep everyone else away. To keep Yata away? Wait, no. Did he want that? He didn't want that. But Yata was already in an inferno not his own, disbelief searing its way into his eyes. It swallowed him up, and in the photo, on Yata's left, _that_ man's warped smile encouraged it.

* * *

Disorientation and aching eyeballs greeted Fushimi as fear forced him awake. It only took him a few moments to realize he was in bed, having just woke up from a dream, but he still felt a viscid queasiness in his chest and throat. The squeak of a faucet being turned off called his attention to the light peaking under the closed bathroom door on the far side of the room.

  
When Yata opened the door, light flooded in and Fushimi winced. Seeing Fushimi awake made him pause, but one look at him brought sympathy to Yata's features. "You too huh?"

  
Fushimi didn't respond so much as gawk at him and it was only partly because of post-dream perturbation. Always quick to comprehend a situation, he was processing how long Yata must have been out of bed for it to be as cold as it was. Thinking of both that and the very fresh image of Yata turning charcoal filled him with concern and regret.

  
"Saruhiko?" Yata flicked off the bathroom light in favor of the table lamp once he was beside the bed. Fushimi realized he had spent too long silent when the nervousness in Yata's "hey, talk to me," was audible.

  
"Don't-" too harsh. _Don't shut him out._ "...Don't worry... about me." Yata wasn't very quiet when he woke up from a bad dream. They tended to be more severe than Fushimi's, and they occurred at longer intervals, so they hit harder. That is to say, they wake him up too. "This is your first here, right? You could have woken me up."

  
"What, and disturb your already shitty sleep schedule?" He tried to act casual about it, but his voice was still tense. Guilt flared in Fushimi's chest.

  
"Well I'm awake now anyway, if you want to talk," he proposed.

  
"Theres not much to say that I haven't already," shrugged Yata. He climbed under the covers as if sleep would come. "Just the usual. What about you?"

  
"Same as you I suppose. The usual." Suddenly Fushimi wanted Yata in his arms as soon as possible. Yata followed him into his chest when he reached out.

  
"I thought you didn't have a usual?"

  
That was mostly true. When Fushimi had a nightmare it was a new concoction of his already existing trauma. It wasn't often like the scenes of a movie being retold, the way Yata's were. Still, they always amounted to the same things; everything he cares about getting destroyed.

  
"It was just a stupid dream. It didn't really make sense," he yawned. "Are you going to try to sleep?"

  
The red-head nodded against his him. Fushimi glanced at the lamp still lit on Yata's side, and then the clock that read 1:43 AM on his. He could feel something wet on his chest, and Yata shook. It was all he could do to hold him tighter and run a hand through his hair. He wished he could do more.

  
"Sorry..." Yata sniveled, trying to keep his breathing controlled. That struck Fushimi right in the heart, hearing his normally spirited and bold boyfriend sound so small.

  
"Why are you sorry? You don't need to be, I promise." They should be able to share this kind of thing with each other. Yata shouldn't ever be sorry for needing to cry to his boyfriend.

  
"I know how hard it can be for you t-" a hiccup, "to deal with me like this."

  
Oh no. "Misaki... it's hard for me to deal with anything like this. It's not any fault of yours and... I want to be able to. Deal with this. Help with this, just-" he took a shuddering breath. "I want to be here for you. I was afraid, and I hurt you to protect myself. I don't want that at your expense."

  
Yata was up looking at him now, still wet-eyed and breathing unsteadily, but focused on Fushimi. "Is that what your dream was like?"

  
"A lot of them are like that. Misaki, don't think I don't want to see you when you're upset, no matter what... or _who_ you're upset about."

  
_'billowing smoke like a beast'_

  
Yata flumped back down onto Fushimi's chest with something between a laugh and a sob. "I should be the one telling you that."

  
"You have told me that. I thought I should return the favor."

  
"I miss them."

  
"I know."

  
"It hurts." Yata's grip on Fushimi tightened.

  
"I know." Fushimi returned it, equal in force.

  
They stayed like that until the clock read 2:12 AM. It took that long for Yata's crying to subside.

  
"Hand me that water bottle would you?" he asked, although he was already reaching for said bottle on Fushimi's desk. He couldn't quite make it with the way they were laying down.

  
Fushimi passed it along, and motioned for him to sit up. "I don't want you spilling on me again."

  
"That was one time-"

  
"It was twice. Once on the couch and then at the picni-"

  
"Okay well its just water this time."

  
"I don't like being soggy."

  
"Whatever!" Yata shouted, and then immediately regretted. From the look on his face, he must have a pounding headache."...whatever," he rasped out, this time much quieter. "Im killing this water bottle."

  
"Wait a se-"

  
" _Whyyyy_?" Yata flopped his arms on the bed, much too exhausted to argue about the bottle making sloshing sounds in his hand.

  
Fushimi, in reply, turned around and rummaged in a drawer. "Here, you can use that to wash these down." There was a bottle of pain killers and a bottle of sleeping pills Yata could choose from. For this situation they kind of had the same effect.

  
Yata disliked having to swallow pills, but the pounding in his head and the stinging in his now dry eyes told him it was necessary if he wanted any rest. Fushimi also told him it was necessary if he wanted any rest.

  
"You'll need some if you want any rest."

  
"Yeah, yeah." Against what would better assure him some sleep, he picked the pain killers; They were smaller. "You sleep too, dummy. I wasn't kidding about your shitty schedule."

  
So, Fushimi popped some sleeping pills, deciding it was better to fall asleep in thirty minutes than to wait however long it would take otherwise. After turning off the light they curled back up against each other and pulled the blanket over their heads, as if they were the only two people in the world.

  
"Thanks, Saruhiko," breathed Yata, seeming  finally able to relax.

  
Fushimi just hummed and kissed his head. He could feel the last of his earlier unease fade away.

  
They slept okay until morning.

* * *

Somehow, Fushimi found that sleeping in Yata's apartment allowed his mind to rest easier. It could have been because there was more to distract him than in his bare dorm room at Scepter 4. Or, perhaps it was the warm atmosphere- not suffocating the way Homra was with it's crowds and close-knit attitude (and really everything else.) He knew he was wanted here. Of course, it could likely just be the proximity to Yata. That was really the most important thing. He'd find out for certain if Yata ever stayed in his dorm for the night. Regardless, he was thankful for the chance at reprieve; he woke up twice yesterday night, as he had been for the past three days until Yata told him he could sleep at his place even if Yata himself had hit the hay. Although he wouldn't admit it very easily, it was a comfort to Fushimi that he had Yata to look out for him in that way.

  
A shame he was busy writing reports, instead.

  
Knowing he'd have overtime otherwise, he brought work 'home' so to speak. If he didn't it would get too late to reasonably walk over and he'd just loose sleep over there.

  
Fushimi was almost done when a startling wail made him jump in his seat. It came from just a room over- where Yata was sleeping- and it sounded raw. A person would expect someone to make that noise if they'd just had both their hands triturated, so naturally it had Fushimi's blood pumping with adrenaline, fearing the worst.

  
In the hopes of being stealthy he snuck to the door and slipped a knife out of his sleeve. If someone got inside without him seeing, they'd have to break a window. Wouldn't he have heard that though? Hand on the doorknob, he listened carefully, only to hear what sounded like Yata muttering to himself.

  
"Totsuka-san... Mikoto-san..." It came out like a rough whisper, before he inhaled sharply. Another cry.

  
So that was it. Fushimi put his knife away, the adrenaline rush dying down in place of a different kind of panic. He'd seen Yata wake up delirious, incoherent, crying... but he had never heard him sound like _that_. In another situation he might run a hand along his back for comfort but now he could only... what, hug him? Say _'I'm here_?' Fushimi couldn't imagine his presence helping with a hurt like this, much less anything he would have to say. Suddenly Fushimi felt like he didn't belong in that apartment. Yata was choking on tears in there; it's not like he could go in and say 'dont worry, it was just a dream.' Those people we're gone now, and there was nothing he could do to fix that.

  
Could he really leave him alone though? Yata _had_ been coping with this for over a year before he really came back into his life. Remorse's cold blade shanked him in the gut, with that thought. His mind was consumed with futility, but his hand was still on the bedroom doorknob. Body still as stone, he listened to his boyfriend grieving vocally, sound muffled behind this barrier of a door. Before Fushimi knew it, Yata had calmed down, possibly even fallen asleep, and he couldn't move his feet during any of it.

  
That blade Remorse left in him kept him still long after that. Moving put an ache in his muscles, and he only noticed because he considered packing up his bag and leaving the apartment. But no, he really couldn't leave Yata all alone, even if it was just for his own, selfish sake. Instead, he put his work away (he would finish it in the morning) and slowly, quietly crept his way into bed.

  
Yata seemed asleep from when he opened the door to when he crawled under the covers, but it was hard to tell for certain. He was curled up on himself as if he could become so small, he'd stop existing. His breathing was even, but up close his white knuckles were visible in the sparse light, gripping his own shoulders too tightly.

  
When Fushimi settled into bed, he didn't lay his head on Yata's pillow and hug him the way he might've usually. It felt greedy to take Yata's warmth. Nonetheless, not long after Fushimi joined him in bed, Yata sought out his, greeting him sleepily. "'M glad you made it."

  
Feeling like an intruder, Fushimi fell into a restless sleep by Yata's side.

* * *

"I feel like shit," groaned Yata, about as soon as he got out of bed. He opened the door and moved to the kitchen, just a few strides to there from the bedroom in his small apartment. "You got time for breakfast?" he questioned with his face in the pantry. Fushimi opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. "Don't answer that- you're making time. No one makes sure you're eating right over there, what the hell. Isn't there a chef in the Special Ops? How are you getting away with eating CalorieMate for dinner..."

  
On mornings like these, that would be the start of their normal banter, but Fushimi felt too out-of-sorts. After last night, Yata wakes up and immediately prioritizes feeding him. Considering that, Fushimi experienced a surge of annoyance, which nowadays he could identify as an effect of a much deeper emotion: guilt. (Annoyance was an emotion often secondary to every other emotion he tries to avoid having, he's come to realize.) He swallowed both down to eat breakfast.

  
"You'll eat an omelet right? Saruhiko?"

  
"Hm? Sure."

  
Yata gave him a pregnant stare, and Fushimi could feel his own pulse quicken with dread, but the moment passed without comment.

  
Minutes ticked by without much comment from Fushimi, but that wasn't unusual. Yata just filled the empty spaces by recounting stuff that happened yesterday- all the things he would say when they shared dinner or played a game or watched a movie before bed. By the time food was ready, Fushimi's nerves had settled down enough to know that emptiness in the pit of his stomach was hunger.

  
"Here." Yata set down the omelets, before coming back with a bottle of grape juice. "I figured I should get your favorite if you're gonna be spending the night more often."

  
Fushimi blinked at the bottle. He remembered saying something about juice last week. The grin Yata gave him was as bright as ever. Maybe he was okay.

  
"How'd you sleep? You couldn't have been out for very long since you got here so late."

  
Not letting his face betray his feelings and fatigue, he took a bite of his omelet and shrugged. Yata looked down at his plate surprised though.

  
"You just ate a slice of bell pepper Saruhiko."

  
Computing... Fushimi blanched.

  
"No no, you keep eating that! Seriously, its a tiny chunk, it wont kill you. Might even get you through the day. Hey," Yata sort of cooed as he reached across the table to Fushimi's hand, "you don't need to lie about not sleeping well. I know sleeping over here only does so much, with the kind of dreams you get, and how much work you do. I offered because I'd rather have you close by for those things instead of sleeping alone, honestly. So you can tell me if you're tired, or you feel bad, or had a nightmare. I want to know if you're upset, no matter what the reason is." Yata's hand rested on top of his, and Fushimi couldn't help but turn his palm around and hold back. "And anyway, I didn't sleep very well last night either."

  
Oh. "...Is that so."

  
"Yeah. It was the worst one in a while actually." Yata looked off to the side ruefully. "First I'm dreaming about flying motorcycle cameras and the next thing I know I'm on that roof again, trying to stop the bleeding, while he just... slips away."

  
That was sort of vague. Did he mean he was there when Totsuka died? Fushimi didn't know that. He should have. Of course Yata was there; he was the first to any scene.

  
"I wasn't even there for Mikoto-san. I'm never there in the dreams. But when Anna starts crying you feel your chest hollow, and this frigid cold ache in your bones..."

  
Yata was definitely talking about Totsuka. Totsuka died right in his arms. That was possibly the shittiest thing to learn a year late.

  
"All of that is one thing, but the part I hate the most is waking up. No ones there when you scream your throat raw- it's like there's no fucking break."

  
Although that could give any shitty thing a run for its money.

  
"...I'm sorry, Misaki," Fushimi mumbled, trying to find his voice. Their food was getting cold.

  
"What? Crap I didn't mean it like that! I got carried away. It's okay, Saruhiko, I'm okay. Besides," trust- too much of it- and a sincerity Fushimi couldn't dream of matching, "I know you would have been there if you could have."

  
Something broke. It was Remorse, finally wrenching it's knife out of Fushimi's stomach, effectively eviscerating him. Without warning Fushimi snatched his hand back and made way for the door, forgoing everything he brought from his papers to the rest of his uniform. Yata called after him.

  
"What's wrong?" The sturdier of the two caught his hand halfway out the door. "Don't just go. Did I say something? You'll leave all you stuff here..."

  
Again Fushimi's legs felt like lead. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. (Yes he did, he wanted to stay with Yata.) Well he knew what he didn't want, and that was to be rejected. (He deserved it though.) Worst of all, Yata sounded so dismayed to have him leave.

  
"Saru, c'mon. I need you to tell me what's wrong. I..." In his hesitation, Yata's grip loosened. Fushimi could pull away, "I'm sorry if I said something that..." but if he did, Yata would think he was to blame. That settled it, he supposed.

  
"Misaki." Fushimi closed the door and looked down. "I'm sorry I didn't go to you last night."

  
"I already told you-"

  
"I was there the whole time." Fushimi had to half-shout it for it to come out of his throat at all.

  
"...what?"

  
"I was there last night. In the other room. Working."

  
A comprehending anger flickered across Yata's face. "Why... You... What why?!"

  
Fushimi couldn't quite explain himself.

  
"What were... reports more important?" With the way Yata was breathing it was obvious he was trying to keep himself calm, but he couldn't quite get there.

  
Fushimi clicked his tongue. "No, it wasn't like I was ignoring you-"

  
"Then what?! Did you just stand there??" 

  
Silence.

  
"Saruhiko what the hell?"

  
"...I didn't... I don't know how to help. Or console you. I didn't think there was anything I could do." Yata's stare was incredulous, but he waited for him to continue. "You sounded... so upset. And I knew it was because of Totsuka-san and Mikoto-san. I was afraid to approach the situation because I still don't know how to feel about them. Or how to confront that."

  
"So you figured it would be best to just leave me there. The one who was bawling his eyes out." His tone of voice simmered between anger and exasperation.

  
"It's because I didn't know how to feel that I thought I couldn't... offer anything." Fushimi found it hard to look him directly in the eye. "I couldn't say anything to comfort you. All I could do was pat your back and say _'there, there, you will miss these people forever_.' Or something else similarly useless."

  
"You wouldn't have to say anything! It would have been enough just to have you there."

  
"Me. Of all people."

  
"Yes you! Especially you! Just... I know it's not really an obligation or anything, but I'm always there when your nightmares get bad and... I really could have used someone last night." Yata rubbed his eyes, the sleep loss showing on his face two-fold now. Fushimi fought the urge to run before Yata could tell him to.

  
"I'm sorry. Really. I don't know if I can make it up to you exactly but... I'm here now if you want to talk at me about it." There was probably more to how Yata felt about all of this than he knew, so this seemed like a reasonable suggestion. If he wanted to talk to him ever again, that is.

  
"Isn't it sorta late for that?" Yata groused. Last night was pretty awful, after all, and Fushimi couldn't blame him for his tone.

  
"That's up to you." If being there was enough, he hoped he could give him that much.

  
Pensively, Yata stared at the ground for a good couple of moments, before returning to the table. "You should eat first."

  
"Is that a rain check then? We both only have so much time before work." Fushimi sat back down at the table apprehensively.

  
"Says the guy who was gonna leave without literally every item he needs. Yeah, I want to talk about it tonight."

  
At that, Fushimi only nodded, and began finishing his cold omelet. He even ate all the bell peppers, although he washed it down with grape juice after each bite. Table-top conversation was minimal.

  
Yata still kissed him goodbye when they left the apartment for work. He didn't get thrown away. Fushimi took that information and kept it in his heart to give it a chance to grow some more hope in there. Auxiliary processing in his brain was spent preparing for that night.

  
When that night came, Yata sat them both down on the couch and told Fushimi exactly what kind of nightmares he had been having. In the same vein, he talked about missing Suoh and Totsuka, and how frightened to the core he was of being left behind by anyone else. How he feels when Fushimi walks away without warning.

  
None of it was easy to say for Yata, given the subject, but he hadn't spelt it out to anyone the way he needed to and he was tired from holding it in. Tired from the nightmares. Tired of blood on his hands and long days spent in empty bars.

  
"Sometimes I get... really _angry_ at him," he exhaled against Fushimi's chest, "which just makes it hurt more. I never want to be angry at him. I never want to be angry at either of them-" he bit back a sob, "I loved them. I never understood anything about them but I loved them."

  
"I wasn't there. I'm sorry," Fushimi whispered into his hair. Yata once expressed a similar sentiment when they began reforming their friendship, so Fushimi felt his chest become uncomfortable with regret.

  
"It's... you're here now. I'll be okay, anyway." He wiped his eyes and got up to check the time. "Sorry about all of this. I feel like it was gonna eat me up if I didn't rant about it."

  
"We've already established its better to not keep these things locked up, right? It's fine." Speaking of eating things up, "Are you hungry?"

  
The kitchen got a disgruntled glare from Yata, who- on top of everything Fushimi had seen him experience personally- probably had a long day at work too. "Can we order something?"

  
Fushimi pulled Yata back down into his arm and pulled out his PDA. "There's a pizza place still open."

* * *

The apartment they shared now was bigger than Yata's old one, if only a little. As far as the bedroom went, it was better accommodating of a two person bed which was sorely needed unless they wanted to bunk again.

  
Didn't stop Fushimi from rolling off the bed the other day, but whatever.

  
Their living room was about the same, and Fushimi was on the couch Yata had brought over from his old one. He was re-reviewing an incident report of Doumyouji's and listening to some online radio with Yata's headphones when a yell broke his concentration. The very same kind that sounded muddled and wounded in the heart.

  
"Misaki?" he called. Hesitation cost Yata a disconsolate night the last time, so instead he discarded the headphones to the couch and made to open the door to their room.

  
What he met directly on the other side of the door, however, was Yata, hand also on the knob and a stunned expression on his face. That lasted half a second before Fushimi found himself in a crushing embrace. Yata had his teary face pressed up against his shoulder, and couldn't get out any words aside from 'Saruhiko.'

  
Although Yata wasn't in a great state of mind, Fushimi was a little glad he found him on his feet. From the noise he just made, Fushimi expected to find him in a contorted ball on the bed, trying to make himself smaller, to keep that hole in his chest closed. All while retching from crying so much, unable to breathe through the sorrow. Up until all this nightmare talk, Fushimi was picky about what he used the word 'afraid' on, in regards to his feelings. Not a lot of thoughts scared him like that one though, even if he'd be there for him in spite of it all.

  
Instead of awkwardly standing in the doorway, Fushimi maneuvered them both back to the bed and turned a lamp on. Yata was clinging to him for all it was worth, finally gathering up some words.

  
" _Don't go I'm sorry I didn't mean to I wasn't thinking_ -" if they weren't so close together Fushimi might not have caught all that. He was shaking.

  
"I'm not going anywhere, calm down..." he tried rubbing his back since saying 'calm down' does jack shit. "You haven't done anything wrong, Misaki." That didn't get an immediate response either, but that would be unreasonable. A couple minutes passed and Yata had relaxed enough to loosen his grip around Fushimi's torso.

  
...In favor of Fushimi's head, apparently. He brushed the bangs of his unstyled hair back and kissed his forehead, his temple, at his hairline, all with the same gingerness he would treat a bruise.

  
"Hold on, what kind of dream were you having?" He put a hand on each of Yata's shoulders and pulled him down to look him in the face. He was still blinking tears out of his eyes.

  
Before he had the words for a reply, Yata took Fushimi's right hand in his own and pressed his lips against it. He stayed like that for a short time, and explained, "we were fighting again. You got hurt real bad... I hurt you really bad."

  
"Ha!" a short laugh escaped Fushimi. "That wont happen."

  
Yata scowled.

  
"I mean we haven't any reason to be fighting like that now. Here," he pulled his fringe back to expose part of his forehead and right temple. "Is this where I was hurt?"

  
Pain flashed across Yata's eyes. "Yeah. And here," he squeezed Fushimi's hand, "and all up here," he ghosted his arm with his fingertips. "...it was a mess."

  
"But you always went easy when you aimed for my face, so that doesn't even make sense." Fushimi laid back with a smirk.

  
"Wh- no I didn't!"

  
"Yes you did. I could tell because I blocked every strike."

  
Luckily, Yata had it in him to be indignant. "No you didn't!" He actually didn't, but he could remember that no impact he actually suffered was as severe as they ought to have been. "B-besides! What about you? Try aiming those knives somewhere important for once!"

  
"Never at you," he lulled and then kissed him. "That was just a nightmare. We're not fighting like that anymore." It was nice to be able to say that for Fushimi, considering his last bad dream. After four years, that sort of thing needed reaffirmation, despite how obvious a reality it was.

  
"I know that. Sometimes it feels too good to be true though." Yata this time kissed Fushimi, and chuckled despite the bags under his eyes.

  
Doumyouji's report needed to be re-written, as his description of the people involved still amounted to backhanded comments on their various features, with only one real name cited. After that, the rest of the night belonged to restful slumber.

  
Their new home together saw less and less nightmares. While some things may never go away, neither Yata or Fushimi doubted that somewhere down the line they could put their troubled minds at rest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be completely honest; I might come back and change some things. I felt so disconnected from everything I was writing I'm not sure if any of it makes sense. Also I couldn't get anything indented like I wanted.


End file.
